


Parts of Me

by ring_around_the_daisy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anger, Angst, Brain Damage, Car Accidents, Coma, Dean-Centric, Death, Disabled Dean Winchester, Disfigurement, Hospital, Hurt Dean, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Minor Character Death, Obsessiveness, Organ Transplantation, Physical Therapy, Slow Burn, skewed sense of time
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-26
Updated: 2016-11-26
Packaged: 2018-09-02 06:48:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8654914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ring_around_the_daisy/pseuds/ring_around_the_daisy
Summary: When Dean wakes up from a 6 month coma after a car accident, he has to learn how to live again. With the help of a hand mirror he sees that the accident altered more than he originally thought. A blue eye rests beside his green one and with it is the start of a journey of mental anguish, self discovery, and a dark haired stranger with a deeper connection.





	

Everything was blurry and plain. There were beeping noises and buzzes, droning sounds going around as well. Nothing made sense and it was hard to focus on it all. It was easier to go back to the dark.

 

Things were a bit clearer but still plain. Shapes were moving around, one kept going in and out of what was able to be seen. The noises were constant and there was a strange sensation felt all around.

 

Things were almost able to be made out but not identified. The noises would get too loud at times and a new noise would be added when they did. The other noises usually stopped when the new noise started. The strange sensations were getting harder to ignore and not even going back into the dark could block them out.

 

Things were clear but still not able to be identified. It was all still a mystery. The noises continued to be annoying but they were getting more tolerable and able to be sort of understood. The sensations were getting more intense still and the dark had ceased to be a form of comfort. It only seemed to heighten their feeling.

 

"Squeeze my hand."

 

The noise registered but wasn't understood. Instead, a jerk was done because the contact brought on more of the sensations that were too much still.

 

"Squeeze my hand."

 

That was done a lot and it meant nothing for a long time. Eventually, though, the droning turned into words that were understood. Objects could be identified and the 'sensations' were no longer scary. What came last, though, was remembering being human and what human he was. A name was repeated a lot and eventually it stuck. Human was replaced by Dean and something was replaced with male. Dean was a he. He was Dean.

 

"Squeeze my hand."

 

This time, Dean felt his fingers twitch before slowly curling down. They touched skin but the hold was feeble at best. Whoever was at the other end, though, didn't seem to care as they squeezed his hand tightly. It hurt a bit but Dean couldn't tell them that. He was paralyzed there, lost in his own head when it wasn't foggy. The darkness had become his friend again, though, now that he wasn't afraid of everything.

 "Dean, you're doing great, man. I'm really proud of you. You're making great progress. I know the doctors say not to hope for too much but I know you can do it. You're my big brother...you can do anything, right?" said a familiar voice that cracked halfway through its short monologue.

Silence rang through Dean's head for a bit before a name registered:  _Sam._ That was Sam. Sam was near him, wherever he was.

" 'am." mumbled Dean, the word barely making it past his lips. "S'am." 

"Dean? Dean! Yeah, I'm here. I'm right here." said Sam, scooting his chair as close to Dean's hospital bed as he could and loosening his grip on Dean's hand so that he was now cradling it. "I'm right here, man. Don't worry."

"Sam."

 

"Dean? Dean. Can you follow my finger?"

 

The voice came from a pretty lady in a white coat. She had her finger pointed out and a beam of light aimed at him. He did his best to focus on her and his eyes slowly trailed after the light. It was pretty and he felt a corner of his mouth twitch up a bit as he tried to focus on it despite it hurting his eyes. His hand raised inch by inch off the bed until he was reaching for it. "Pretty."

That was the second word he'd remembered how to say. 

The object was set in his hand and he curled his fingers around it before drawing it closer to himself. It was warm against his skin but the light was gone, making him furrow his eyebrows in confusion. "Pretty?" He turned it around in his hand as best he could with his fingers, his other one making feeble attempts at rising. "Pretty!" His voice was more insistent now as his eyes went back to the woman in the white coat. When she realized what he wanted, she reached over and clicked the light back on after making sure it wasn't aimed at his eyes. Once it was shining and lighting up his hand in the relatively dim room, Dean's face lit up in wonder. "Pretty..." 

His voice was soft and full of awe.

 

"Dean? Who am I?"

 

The question was being asked by the pretty lady in the white coat. He saw her a lot now, more than he saw Sam. She would talk with him and give him things to hold, telling him what they were. Dean would remember what those things were called but still didn't understand what they were. She said she was trying to see how much brain damage he had...whatever that meant. One day she'd set something in front of him, a book she'd called it, and asked him to read it. Nothing made sense on the paper so he'd just shoved it away in frustration. His language wasn't much better, the speech that came out sounding like that of a toddler rather than a 30 year old man.

"Pretty lady." said Dean, looking at her again and giving her a smile. That's what he called her in his mind. The only people's names he thought were important were Sam and his own. Anyways, this was a pretty lady.

"No, Dean. I'm Lisa." said the lady, emphasizing the name in an effort to make him remember. She told him her name everyday she visited him to help with his brain damage. So far, he seemed to only want to remember his brothers name and his own. It was like dealing with a child which she supposed he was for the time being.

"No, you're pretty lady." said Dean, laughing as he'd crossed his arms over his chest. He'd gained most of his muscle control back but he'd forgotten how to walk. They'd found that out when he'd tried to escape the bed and had just fallen. It would have been comical if not for the fact that he started crying because 'the mean ground hurt him.' From then on, he had stayed in the bed and just worked with the physical therapist who worked his limbs to try and get him used to movement again.

 

"Okay, come on, Dean. You can do it."

 

The voice was coming from Lisa, the sentiment repeated by Sam. He'd been at the hospital a long time now but he didn't know how long, he hadn't asked. His mental state was recovering and while he was no longer acting like a toddler, he still had a long ways to go. The most obvious mark of that was the fact that he was clutching a walker for dear life as he refused to move. He remembered how much it had hurt to fall out of the hospital bed and he didn't want to repeat that here despite their reassurances that wouldn't happen this time. They kept telling him that the walker would help him and the fact that he'd been working his legs would help a lot, too.

"No, I can't do it." said Dean, shaking his head as he shook slightly.

"You can, Dean. Just take a few steps, please. I know you can do this." 

This time the encouragement was coming from Sam and that moved a little something in Dean. He looked up and saw Sam and Lisa standing side by side, both waiting for him to take at least one step. Looking at their faces now, he knew he couldn't let them down. It was just a feeling that was coming from deep inside of him. He didn't know why but he had to follow it.

He looked down again but this time focused on his feet which were firmly planted against the cool tiles of the hospital floor. After taking a deep breath, he lifted one leg and put it slightly forward. All his weight was resting on the walker, though, as his foot touched down but it still felt like an accomplishment. Seconds passed before lifted the other foot and put it in front of the other. More steps were taken until he had reached the front of his walker and he looked up, now at a loss for what to do next.

"Pick it up and put it a little bit in front of you before starting again." said Lisa, her tone even and calm. It was obvious she was doing her best to avoid startling him.

The thought of lifting up the walker and being without its support, if only for a few seconds, sent panic running through Dean and he felt his throat close up slightly. Still, that feeling that he couldn't let them down persisted so he did what she said. The next few steps happened and he was truly surprised he hadn't fallen on his face when he'd no longer had the support of the walker when he was standing.

Slowly, he made his way towards them until there was only a foot of space between. Smiles lit up their faces and he felt happy because they were happy. 

 

"Good, Dean. Very good."

 

Dean was hearing that a lot these days. He was starting to pick up things faster than he had before and was making a lot of progress. He'd regained the ability to walk and was talking at a more appropriate level. It would take some more time and social interaction for him to fully catch up on that, though. Most importantly, his memories had started to trickle back in and he was feeling like Dean Winchester again.

By now he knew the reason he was here was because he'd gotten in a horrific car crash. It had totaled his baby, supposedly, beyond repair but Sam told him he'd had Bobby save it anyways. A drunk driver had run a red light and had also been going way too fast. That combination had Dean's car flipped over and Dean taking the majority of the impact since the impala didn't exactly have the best safety features. It had been thought that he was dead when he'd been pulled from the wreckage since half of his face had caved in and he didn't seem to be breathing. It wasn't until one of the paramedics saw him gasp that they started to feverishly work on him to save his life at the scene.

He honestly didn't know why they'd bothered given the description of how he'd allegedly looked. Still, it was good to be alive even if he did have to basically go through a crash course of growing up again. 

One thing he hadn't done in all the time of recovering, though, was look in a mirror. They said they hadn't wanted to scare him while he was still healing from his injuries. So, naturally, the first thing he wanted was a hand mirror.

What looked back at him was unusual and slightly unnerving. It was like his face had been split in half, so to speak. One half looked like him and the other was altered. It was paler, stretched thin, scarred, and overall just looked a bit unnatural. The part that stood out the most, though, was the bright blue eye that replaced the green one that had once been there. His eyes were supposed to both be green but now one of them was blue. That meant that he had someone else's eye in his head now because of the car crash. Was he wearing their skin? Did he have anything else from them in his body?

"My eyes aren't blue," was all Dean could say.

"When you came in, there was no saving your eye. However, a donor was a match for you and our surgeons were to successfully restore your vision with their eye," said Lisa, her voice hesitant since she could see the shock on Dean's face.

"Is anything else of their's in me?"

"You also received their heart and liver."

Dean set the mirror down in his lap and looked down at himself. He now shared his body with another person. Another persons organs lived inside of him, he was seeing with another persons eye. He was alive because someone else died. It didn't feel right and a part of him wanted to rip the foreign organs out and give them back to their rightful owner. They didn't belong to him but they must have been an organ donor or the transplant wouldn't have been done.

"I'll leave you alone."

 

"Ready to leave, Dean?"

 

It was Dean's discharge day. He'd been at the hospital for a total of 6 months and it was going to be weird to be outside of it again. A part of him was feeling like he'd been born again in that hospital in a way since he'd had to relearn so many things there. He still didn't know how to read or write anymore, Sam said he was going to help him with that which was humiliating. He was 30 years old and his little brother was going to have to teach him how to read and write. Dean remembered teaching Sam how to read.

He was wheeled out like all the other patients, him still not knowing how far he was able to walk in one go. His muscles had severely deteriorated over his 6 month stay and while he was technically healthy, he was also weak. He'd need to gain weight and work out if he wanted to get back to how he looked before. Living on his own was out of the question so he would be staying with Sam until he could take care of himself. If he could ever take care of himself, as the doctors had said.

Sam's prius wasn't something he was happy to see but he got into it anyways, grumbling about how it 'wasn't a real car.' Still, you could tell he didn't have his full energy in him. Doing simple things still took a lot out of him and forced him to slow down, his body giving up way before his mind wanted to. 

 

"Dean, you need to stop staring at yourself in that mirror."

 

The request came from Sam who had been taking care of him for three months now. Dean spent a great deal of his time staring at his face with the handheld mirror he'd smuggled with him from the hospital. He couldn't get over the changes to his face, the scars that were left behind. Mostly, he couldn't get over the blue eye that seemed to mock him. It worked like his other eye did but still felt foreign in his skull. At times he felt the urge to take a spoon and scoop it out but he never acted on it. He wanted to be able to drive again one day and to do that he needed depth perception.

He hadn't had a beer since he'd been out of the hospital, not wanting his new liver to do more work than it needed to. It wasn't his and it didn't feel right to poison it. His heart beat away in his chest and he swore he could hear it at night when he was trying to fall asleep. He'd taken to playing music at night in an effort to block it out, the Beatles his choice since he remembered his mom singing that to him as lullaby's, especially 'Hey Jude.' Sometimes he just had that song on loop.

"The eye...I hate it. It doesn't look right. Can't I at least get a green contact or something to make it not blue?" asked Dean as he dropped the mirror in his lap.

"You heard what the doctors said. They don't want you doing anything to the eye that might make your body suddenly reject it." said Sam with a sound of sympathy. He knew how much this was bothering Dean but he also didn't want anything to cause his new organs to turn on him. As far as he was concerned, everything was in a delicate balance still and it was best to not mess with it.

"I'm gonna go work on the car." said Dean as he hauled himself out of his chair before grabbing the cane he needed to walk. It made him feel old but he had little choice in the matter.

"Dean, the cars at Bobby's, remember?" said Sam with patience in his voice.

"Oh...right." said Dean, looking down at the floor. His long term memory had been greatly effected by the crash and it showed up at times like this. "Then I'll be in my room."

 

"You want to know...what?" 

 

"I want to know who gave me the organs currently in my body." said Dean as he fixed Lisa with a hard stare. They were out at dinner together, the first contact they'd had since he'd been discharged. When she'd seen him, Lisa had enthused about how great he looked. One of Dean's top priorities was trying to get back to looking as much like he did before the crash. That meant bulking up again and getting his natural skin tone back so he didn't look like a less severe version of two face. It had clearly paid off given her reaction but that wasn't what he was interested in right now.

"Dean...I'm not allowed to give out that information. It's hospital policy." said Lisa, regret clear in her voice. Her head bowed and she played with the silverware in front of her, not wanting to meet Dean's eyes.

"Lisa, I need to know. This has been bugging me for months. I've been so close to carving into myself to take these organs out that don't belong to me. I have to know who they belong to for my own sanity." said Dean, the hand on the table going into a fist as he leaned forward across it. "Now, unless you want me back in that hospital, this time in a body bag, I have to know."

There was a long pause before Lisa took a deep breath. "I'm probably going to be fired over this but his name was Misha Collins. I remember because I looked over your file so often."

Dean felt something in him shift when he heard the name and not because he knew the person. The name still belonged to a stranger but it gave him something to go on. Now he could find out who this mystery person was. Maybe, just maybe, this could bring him peace.

"Thank you."

 

"Of course you have a Facebook. Everyone has a Facebook."

 

 Dean muttered this as he clicked on the google link that led him to the mans Facebook profile. It was open to everyone and said 'remembering Misha Collins.' That put a lump in Dean's throat even though Dean didn't know the guy. Still, he kind of felt a personal connection seeing as how he had his organs inside of his body. That had to count for something.

Not wanting to spend too much time dwelling on that, he clicked on photos so he could get a better idea of what this guy looked like. His profile picture was of what looked to be a protest. The photos section was a mess so Dean just settled for going to profile pictures. 

There seemed to be no running theme to the pictures other than bizarre. One thing he could pick out was that this guy loved bad sweaters, was very expressive, and had a gummy smile. His eyes were the same bright blue that stared back at him in the mirror and his hair was wild which, judging from the pictures, Dean guessed was from not caring. As he scrolled further down his pictures he found out something else surprising. Apparently, this guy also had an identical twin. Their looks seemed to be where the similarities stopped, though.

The twin had the same unruly hair but it looked like it was more from running his fingers through it too many times. His eyes were the same blue but darker in a way, like they held back too many emotions. There seemed to always be a serious look on his face and all of his smiles were either close mouthed or only slightly gummy, it was obvious he wasn't as expressive as his twin. He seemed to have a habit of squinting his eyes and tilting his head, a look of confusion seeming to be on his face when he wasn't looking like he was staring into your soul. He was also always wearing a trench coat even when it didn't seem to be appropriate.

Dean exited out of the profile photos and looked at another album since he still wanted to get more of a glimpse into this mans life. The next one was labeled 'GISHWHES' and he had no idea what the hell that meant. The album had a ton of photos, though, so it must be important. It ended up being filled with photos of random people doing random things, the descriptions telling him the random group of letters stood for 'Greatest International Scavenger Hunter The World Has Ever Seen.' All the photos were happy and almost none of them were of Misha, he seemed to just be celebrating the people who had joined in this thing.

Abandoning that album, Dean saw another one called 'Random Acts of Kindness' and clicked it. It turned out to be a charity and filled with photos about it. This guy was really into helping people it seemed. 

The rest of the albums were more run of the mill with vacation photos, ones of family, and others he'd just posted to his wall of things that had interested him. Overall, he seemed to be a normal guy if a bit all over the place and with a heart too big for one person. 

Seeing all this wasn't helping Dean like he thought it would. Really, it was making him feel worse. Now he knew who the person was whose organs he had. It felt even more like he was stealing from him. Realistically, he knew they wouldn't help him now but that feeling of wrong wouldn't go away. And, because he was apparently a masochist, he went to his wall and decided to look at his posts. 

The first thing he saw was a bunch of peoples messages to this guy saying how they'd miss him and how much he'd improved their lives with his work. Each message he read was an additional punch to the gut and the need to rip the offending organs out became stronger. Still, he resisted the urge like he'd been doing for over a year now. Eventually, he couldn't read anymore and he scrolled down until he got to the last post the guy had made.

It was a picture of him drinking coffee in a random shop. When Dean clicked on the picture, his breath caught in his throat. This wasn't just a random shop, it was the one on Hanson and Gangridge. He recognized the tacky decor and the coffee pun sign off to the side. Even more damning was what he saw from the window that brought a vague memory roaring back in vivid color. He'd been walking down the street when he'd seen a random guy taking a picture of himself with his phone. Thinking it would be funny, he'd 'photobombed' it before moving on. It was a random, unimportant memory but it meant something now.

It meant that, if even for a few seconds, their paths had crossed. Dean had popped up in his photo and that was now stuck on his Facebook for as long as the account existed. That small decision gave them one minuscule connection but it still felt like something.

 

"Misha Collins...Misha Collins..."

 

This was muttered under Dean's breath as he searched the stones in the graveyard. He had managed to track down where he was buried and now wanted to see the grave. He knew this was bordering on creepy(Okay, it was creepy), but he had to see it for himself. He had some flowers in his hand and he honestly didn't know what he was going to do when he found the grave. It seemed impolite to just stare at it but he would also feel weird talking to a stone, especially since he hadn't known the person in real life.

Folded neatly in his pocket was the photo of Misha in the coffee shop with Dean making a weird face against the window. It somehow felt important to bring it with him, like a justification for his visit other than the fact that he had the mans organs. 

When he finally came to the right grave, Dean stopped and closed his eyes before taking too good of a look at the headstone. The flowers were gripped even tighter in his fist and his jaw was clenched. He still didn't know if he could do this now that he was here. Finally, though, he opened his eyes and forced himself to set the flowers down on the grave before looking at the writing on the stone. It was hard to see behind his sunglasses that he wore despite not really needing to.

He did this because didn't like people staring at his different colored eyes. He saw their looks when he had them off, how some would point at him and whisper. It had gotten annoying so he'd started just wearing sunglasses even if it did make him look like a douche bag. It was better than the stares and whispers of people looking at him like he was some sort of oddity for his eyes not matching.

 

"Excuse me...why are you visiting my brothers grave?"

 

Dean nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the gravelly voice. After gaining his composure again, he turned around and saw Misha's mirror image. The emotion darkened eyes and hair that looked messy via running fingers through it told him it was Castiel, his twin. His eyes were squinted but not in confusion. This time they were squinted in suspicion and his expression was guarded. Paired with the trench coat and suit combo he had going on he looked like either a tax accountant or an old fashioned detective.

"Um...I was..." said Dean, proper sentences failing to form. All his thoughts were in his head, trying to making there up his throat and out of his mouth. His tongue, however, didn't want to cooperate and felt heavy and his lips dry. Castiel waited longer for Dean to come up with a response, crossing his arms as his eyes squinted further. When Dean realized he probably wasn't going to be saying anything coherent any time soon, he settled for taking the sunglasses off and hoped that would help a bit.

Castiel paused when he saw Dean's face, particularly his left eye. The blue was a familiar one, he saw it everyday in the mirror and had previously seen it in his twin. Now, it was staring back at him in the face of this man. His eyes quickly looked over the rest of his face and he saw scars there, too. It was obvious that half of his face had been rebuilt though he was still handsome. That eye was the defining feature, though, and made it clear why he was at his brothers grave. "Is that...?" He couldn't bring himself to ask the whole question.

Dean simply nodded and looked away, figuring it was difficult to look at him because of his blue eye. He put the sunglasses back on and stuffed his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, it is."

"How?" Castiel wanted to know the story of what happened, how this man came to have his brothers organs. He knew how Misha died but he didn't know what had happened to this man for him to need an organ donor.

"Um...really bad car accident. I was t-boned by a drunk driver running a red light. It caved in half my face and I ended up needing a new liver and heart as well as, you know, the eye." said Dean, looking down at the ground. He ran his boot over the dirt and bit the inside of his cheek. "How did...how did he...?

It was Castiel's turn to look at the ground now. "He was climbing a tree on a dare and one of the branches broken underneath him. He fell and broke his neck."

"I'm sorry that you lost." said Dean. It took a few seconds of Castiel staring at him to realize that he'd gotten the phrase wrong. "I mean, I'm sorry  _for_ your loss." He hated the language barriers he had now. It was still difficult to talk with people his own age if he wasn't trying extra hard and he messed up slang a lot. His reading level was still simple but the bookshelf in his room was quickly filling up as he tried to push it up as much as he could. Another thing that gave him away was his crude handwriting and how his letters were bigger than they had to be, much like that of a kid just starting to learn how to write. Again, he was trying to make progress and would sometimes copy down passages from his books in an effort to get better.

"Would you like to have lunch? I'll pay." asked Castiel, the look on his face a lot softer than it had been before. Dean couldn't entirely read the expression but it fell somewhere between pity and regret. Still, he'd never been one to turn down free food.

"Sure."

 

"I'll have the...the..." 

 

Dean struggled to pronounce the word of the meal he wanted. The word was in his head, it just didn't seem to want to come out of his mouth. In a moment of frustration he simply hung his head and pointed at the menu. The waitress gave him a soft smile before writing his order down and leaving, Castiel's having been taken before his. 

Dean felt shame washing over him as he stared down at where his arms rested on the table. He'd just had to point at a menu item like a friggin' child. It felt like a blow to his intelligence and, worse, it was in front of the brother of the guy who's organs he had. It was basically like going, 'Your brothers organs went to a dumbass, congratulations.' He really wanted a beer right now but he was still sticking to his policy of not damaging this new liver. He still felt like it wasn't his to sully.

"What happened after the accident for you?"

Castiel seemed to want to know about Dean's recovery. Maybe it would make him to feel better to know that part of his brother was living on in someone else, as creepy as that sounded. So, since he was paying for his meal and being so nice, Dean told him about the coma and how he'd had to grown up again. He told him about the effects of the brain damage and how they impeded his day to day life, how he needed a cane to walk since both of his legs had multiple fractures in that accident. He ended with how he hadn't touched alcohol since he'd left the hospital and how he'd been trying to keep his body healthy, wanting to make sure the organs wouldn't fail.

Dean left out how he stared at himself for hours sometimes because the blue eye felt unnatural. He left out how he sometimes got the urge to carve out his new liver and heart and give them back to their former owner because it felt wrong to have someone else's organs in his body. He left out how it felt like he was a ticking time bomb, that the organs would decide they wanted their old owner back and would turn on him for it.

He left all of that out because this wasn't the person to dump his baggage on. 

 

"Hello, Dean."

 

Dean had ended up exchanging numbers with Castiel after their lunch together though he never intended on calling him. It was certainly a surprise when Castiel ended up calling him. The call had almost gone to voice mail before he'd gotten the sense to actually answer it. "Hi."

 

"You came."

 

There was surprise in Castiel's voice as he saw Dean walking toward him. Dean was dressed in his usual multiple layers, one hand in his over-shirt pocket stroking the photograph he'd gotten from Misha's Facebook wall. He carried the photo everywhere with him. Sam called it obsessive but it grounded Dean in a way so he brushed off his brothers worries and continued with his odd habit. The other hand gripped his cane tightly as he tried to walk as straight as he could. He'd tried to walk a bit on his own today but it wasn't happening so he'd taken the cane with him.

A few grunts escaped his mouth as he slowly sat down before leaning it against the booth. "Yeah, I did." Dean still had his sunglasses on and he was reluctant to take them off. He was self conscious about his blue eye but the dim lighting of the restaurant wasn't making it easy for him to see. Looking away, Dean took the glasses off and pocketed them, his gaze staying firmly planted on his hands. It wasn't so much that it was hard to look at Castiel so much as that he knew it was hard for Castiel to look at him.

"You can look up Dean. It's okay." said Castiel after a few moments of silence.

Dean jumped a bit before slowly looking over at the other man. He hadn't expected to hear that level of acceptance in his voice. At least when Dean kept his gaze down Castiel could pretend he didn't have the eye of his dead brother. "Oh, okay then." A waitress came over then and handed them menu's, a pleasant smile on her face as she asked what they wanted to drink. "I'll have a coke, please." He gave her a hesitant nod before opening his menu and leaning close to read what was there.

His reading level was getting better the more he worked at it but some of the words were just drawing a blank in his head. His brain started trying to decode what they meant, remembering his books and wondering if he'd seen these words there. During this mess, Castiel was calling his name and Dean wasn't aware of it until the menu was being taken from him. Startled, Dean looked up and just blinked at him with his mouth hanging open slightly. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights.

"Dean, are you okay?" asked Castiel as he folded up the menu, concern clear on his face.

"Um..." Dean wanted to lie and say that, yes, he was fine. He didn't want to admit that it was difficult for him to read and that he'd basically just had a panic attack over a damn menu. That gaze, though, held him still and stripped him bare. "No. The words...they're..." Castiel's eyes squinted for a few seconds before understanding washed over his face. Dean didn't know when the decision had been made but suddenly Castiel was pushing him further into the booth so he could sit beside him, the menu spread out before them.

It took Dean a bit to catch on to what Castiel was meaning to do but when he did, he flushed a bit. Castiel had come over to basically read the menu to Dean. Dean didn't know whether to thank him or sink deeper into self loathing about his own incompetence. Instead, he chose none of the above and simply pointed at an item. Castiel read the description off to him and Dean made a small comment. This went for the whole menu before Dean had decided what he wanted. He wasn't sure if he'd had Castiel read the entire menu to him because he couldn't decide or just because he liked hearing him talk.

 

"Fishing? Really?"

 

Dean couldn't help but laugh at the reluctant sound of Castiel's voice as he reacted to his chosen activity. The two had been keeping in touch and hanging out a lot. It seemed to be a good thing for the both of them since they got out of the house and Dean was getting his social skills back. His speech was improving more but he was still as foul mouthed as he was before he'd gotten into the accident. All it had taken was discovering everything. Sam had sighed in disappointment when Dean's sailor mouth had come back, saying the peace had been nice while it lasted. Dean had simply told him to 'shut up, bitch' to which Sam replied 'jerk.' 

His hands were something he was able to work with really well. They hadn't been affected in the accident as much so while out of the hospital, he did activities he could do with his hands. He would carve pieces of wood, work pieces of clay, play video games, and even knit. The last activity was done in secret and Sam hadn't caught him yet. The person who taught him was the nurse Sam hired for when he was at work since he didn't want to leave Dean alone all day. Her name was Charlie and he knew that nurse was just another name for ridiculously overqualified babysitter. Because of this, he'd been stubborn and rude at first before they'd managed to find common ground in sci-fi and she taught him how to knit as a way to keep busy since he couldn't move around all that much.

Sam had taught him how to fish again. It had been during a free weekend and they'd gone down to the lake and set up for the day. While the concept of fishing was in Dean's head, he couldn't quite get his hands to remember what they needed to. So, Sam had walked him through everything until he was doing it easily again. They caught and threw fish back all day, having some drinks (Sam having beers, Dean sticking to soda), and enjoyed each others company.

 

"Yes, fishing."

 

Dean wasn't depending on the cane as much anymore but it came in handy as he dragged a nylon chair behind him. He'd chosen the best spot, him remembering being able to catch a lot of fish here. The chair was pushed open before he turned to get the rest of the supplies only to see Castiel had already made short trips with it. It put a frown on his face since it had taken him that long to open the chair. Then again, he'd done it one handed since he'd been putting his weight on the cane. On Castiel's urging he was trying not to beat himself up as much for his physical shortcomings. He couldn't help what his body wasn't capable of. That was a lot easier to start to accept than his mental shortcomings, at least.

Shaking those thoughts off, he sat down and leaned the cane against his chair. The relief of sitting down ran through him and he let out a pleasant sigh, his eyes closing and his head dipping back. A few seconds passed for him to enjoy the sensation before a pole was being roughly thrown into his lap. He startled slightly and looked over at Castiel while raising an eyebrow that barely made it over the top of his sunglasses. "Was that really necessary?"

"Yes, I think it was." said Castiel with a very satisfied grin on his face before he sat down in his own chair. They both baited their hooks before casting their lines out, settling back to wait for any fish to bite.

 

"I think I got one."

 

These words came from Castiel as his bobber went under the water and he felt a tug at the line. Dean gave him a thumbs up before then making a reeling motion to remind Castiel that there was still more that his friend had to do. Castiel's hands worked quickly after the shock wore off and he was dragging his catch through the water, eager to see what he'd gotten. It wasn't until it was out of the water and almost to him that he saw that it wasn't even a fish.

"Is that...?"

"Dude, you caught a fucking dildo. Guess you are a dick." said Dean before bursting out laughing. His hands slapped his thighs and he didn't even care when his pole fell to the ground. A wet, hard slap on his face got his attention, though, and he turned to Castiel. "Did you just hit me with the wet dildo?"

"No." said Castiel, blue eyes innocent even though he was holding it in his hand and it was clear he had just pulled his arm back.

"Give me that!" said Dean before snatching it away from him and promptly slapping Castiel across the face with the wet dildo. "There, now we're even."

The dildo was thrown back into the lake and Dean settled into his chair again, a few residual giggles escaping him. "Oh, I haven't laughed that hard in...years. It's been years."

"Well, I'm happy I could be a part of that." said Castiel, the left corner of his mouth pulling up in a smile.

 

"It's August 20th. He would have been 37 today."

 

Dean had been friends with Castiel for a while now and had learned small facts along the way. His birthday had been a recent one because it wasn't just his. It was a day Castiel shared with his twin who was no longer around. While birthdays were supposed to be happy, this one had a note of sadness laced with it. It was marked as another year on Earth and another reminder his twin wasn't with him. The photo in Dean's pocket felt heavier than ever now as he ran his fingers across it. It had faded a bit from constant handling, him taking it everywhere and folding it to fit in his pocket. As more seconds ticked by, Dean gripped the photo and slowly pulled it out of his pocket.

Castiel looked over at Dean from his seat on the bench in the graveyard. They were visiting his brothers grave to pay their respects. At least, that's what Castiel had said. They'd been here for hours and it now looked like they were just staring into the abyss next to the grave. Curious about what Dean was holding, he leaned over and watched as it was unfolded.

Dean unfolded the photograph and smoothed it out on his thigh before handing it over to Castiel. "Before, I searched his Facebook page to see a little about who he was and this was his last post. That's me in the background. I saw him taking a picture of himself and thought it would be funny to mess it up." His head hung down and he took his hands back, fingers curling into fists so he could resist the urge to grab the photo. While it was technically his photo, the person in it wasn't his to claim.

"I...remember him talking about the guy who quote on quote 'photobombed' him. I didn't know it was you. How long have you had this?"

"A long time. It stays folded up in my pocket and goes everywhere with me." said Dean, only realizing how creepy that sounded after he'd said it. His ability to lie still wasn't the best so honesty was default for now. "That sounds creepy, I'm sorry." He leaned further away from Castiel and turned his head to the side, his sunglasses doing a good job to not betray the expression on his face.

Castiel didn't respond, didn't seem to know how to respond. Instead, he just nodded before looking in front of him again. The photo was slowly slid back over to Dean until it came to rest on his thigh. Dean looked down in surprise and spent a few seconds splitting his attention between the picture and Castiel before he took it back. The photo went back into its familiar folds before sliding into his pocket with his hand staying rested against it.

The fingers on his thigh moved away as Dean expected before coming to rest against his hand. The small bit of contact caused him to jump but he didn't pull away, his eyes flickering over to Castiel once before staring straight ahead. Those same fingers moved closer before a warm hand was settled on top of his which felt nice in the early morning air. While Dean didn't respond to the contact, he didn't pull away from it either. He supposed that was a response in and of itself, though.

 

"I don't really have any friends..."

 

Dean hung his head as he looked away from Castiel. He'd just been asked about who else he hung out with, who else he was close with. It was then that he realized he didn't have anyone else. Cas was the only person and had been for a long time now. He'd had people before but they'd left when he'd pushed them away. They'd been supportive at first, understanding about what he was going through. That understanding eventually ran out and they left. The only person who hadn't left was Cas and that was because he was the only person he was making any effort with. Sam had told him plenty of times he shouldn't be depending on Castiel solely for social contact but he ignored him because it had worked out so far.

"Am I....your friend?" asked Castiel hesitantly. Dean could hear a small bit of hope in that voice but maybe he was just imagining it. No one would really want to be friends with him now. He was a self hating bastard who could only bring himself to handle one friend. He couldn't hold a job because of his brain damage so he was on disability and that didn't pay much so he was living with his brother and his new wife, Amelia. They always reassured him that he wasn't a bother there, that he was family but he knew that sometimes they wished they could live there without him. Who would want to be friends with that?

"I'd like to think so." came Dean's mumbled reply. He still wasn't looking at Castiel, his gaze fixed on his lap where he was playing with his hands. 

"Good. You're my friend too."

 

"Cas, can I ask you something?"

 

"Of course, Dean. Anything." Castiel turned his head to look at Dean from where he was sitting with him on his couch. They were at his small one bedroom apartment to watch a movie and have pizza. Before the accident Dean would have had a beer with this, a few beers, but he was still sticking to his resolution of not drinking. That resolution had lasted five years now and it had gotten easier as time went on, him forgetting what alcohol tasted like altogether. His small hobbies had replaced his earlier drinking habit. The transition had been rocky but now he was content to pour his frustration into a task rather than a bottle.

"Why have you stuck around so long? I mean...you found out who I was and everything, you could have just walked away then. What made you want to stay?" Dean wasn't an emotional person. Sam liked to say he had the "emotional range of a teaspoon" which he knew as a quote from Harry Potter only because Sam liked watching those movies a lot. The question had been nagging Dean for a long time, though, and his curiosity had finally overridden his inability to talk things out like an adult.

"Your eyes made me stay. The blue one reminded me of my brother and if I looked at just that eye, I could pretend I was looking at him again. The green one, though...that one holds a magic of its own. That eye stole my attention and I knew I was gone. I could see forests and valley's and emeralds all in that one eye but it was all tainted with sadness and self hatred. I wanted to see that eye brighten with joy instead of continuing to be dragged down by constant misery." said Castiel without breaking eye contact with Dean.

Dean was speechless when Castiel finished speaking. Anything he could have said died in his throat and he was just left there with wide eyes. The t.v continued to play the movie in the background, the light bouncing off both of their faces and the sound something neither of them were concerned with. His mouth opened and closed many times before he just left it closed, knowing he didn't have anything to say. His thoughts were a mess and his tongue was incapable of forming words.

"I also stayed because I like you, Dean Winchester. I like your crude sense of humor and how you swear too much. I like how you bite your lip when you're concentrating really hard on something. I like how you're extremely intelligent even if you don't think so. I like how you care so much about everyone around you. I like the man you try to be everyday even though you think you will never truly be that man. Dean Winchester, I like you." 

The short monologue was finished with Castiel's hard, sharp tone and burning stare.

 

"Don't...I can't..."

 

Dean's voice cracked as he felt Castiel's nose against his cheek. His eyes were closed and his body was wedged into the arm of the couch, him suddenly feeling much too small. Hot breath hit his cheek and caused goose bumps to rise on his skin, a soft shudder running through his body. With his eyes closed, everything felt that much more intense. The dark was both inviting and scary, offering him security but also a gateway to the unknown.

The nose that had started out resting on his cheekbone slowly moved down towards his jawline where it encountered his scruff. It tickled slightly to feel the drag of hair against skin, a shuddering breath coming out in response. The nose wasn't done on its journey yet as it slowly moved until it was under Dean's and using it as means to lift his head up. A few seconds were all that separated them before Castiel leaned forward and captured Dean's lips with his own.

The kiss was a smooth embrace with Castiel's hand coming up to rest behind Dean's neck in a cradling position, lips parting to envelope Dean's further. Dean shuddered slightly as he leaned into the kiss and just tried to remember how to breathe. Slowly, his mouth started to react to the kiss and he wrapped his arms around Castiel's upper back in a tight grip with his fingers splayed out across it. There was an increasing note of desperation in the kiss and it came out in the form of Dean pulling himself closer and kissing harder like he couldn't get enough.

He couldn't get enough. Kissing Castiel now felt like he was having his first drink of water after escaping a desert. Sensations he'd forgotten about and new ones were running all through his body, his mind seeming to become overloaded with pleasure and he hadn't even done anything remotely erotic. It was just the sheer intimacy of the moment and all that it unlocked inside of him that had him overwhelmed almost immediately. At the same time, though, he didn't want it to end. He wanted more, he wanted everything.

 

"Dean, are you sure?"

 

Castiel had been asking this periodically as he kissed down Dean's neck and took his clothes off. They were now in the bedroom and Dean was resting against the pillows while looking down at Castiel who was situated at his pants. The number one thing Castiel seemed to be concerned about, besides Dean's pleasure, was whether or not he really wanted to go this far since there was a big difference between kissing and actually having sex. Even though Dean gave the gruff response of 'yes, now shut up' each time it secretly made him feel relaxed to know how concerned Castiel was about what he wanted with this. This was the first time he'd had sex since the accident, his libido having gone down massively.

Blue eyes gave him a long and assessing stare before looking down at his jeans that were tented slightly. It was a bit uncomfortable since Dean's erection was resting against the zipper of his jeans, another sensation he'd forgotten about. Boners still happened but usually in the morning when he woke up, the only barrier beyond underwear being pajama pants. The pressure was starting to get to him but he didn't make any moves to relieve it himself, instead waiting to see what Castiel would do. He was half curious as to how the other man wanted this to play out while also just being nervous as well.

Castiel's eyes returned to Dean's bulging crotch and carefully undid the jeans, mindful of the zipper so that it wouldn't catch on the thing fabric underneath. The pants were slid down slowly with the socks being caught along the way, the fabric landing in a heap on the floor. The only thing remaining on Dean now were his black boxer-briefs which were strained and, if you looked closely, you could see a small wet spot. A few more seconds of silence passed by before Castiel's fingers hooked inside of the underwear and he pulled them down inch by inch until Dean's erection sprang free. After that, the item was pulled off rather quickly.

There was a feeling of relief when Dean felt himself be freed from his underwear. His eyes closed and he rested his head back on the pillows while his toes curled a bit as his feet stretched out. The shuffling of more fabric was heard and Dean knew this meant that Castiel was taking off the rest of his clothes. Despite them both being bare now, Dean felt even more vulnerable since he would be able to compare his body to Castiel's. 

Castiel's body was free of the scars that multiple surgeries left behind, no parts slightly misshapen from a bolt or even just scar tissue hardened under the skin. His face wasn't divided by a line, even if it was faint, that showed where it had been rebuilt. And he didn't have two different colored eyes that gave him even more of an appearance of being two people fused together in the middle. Castiel was unmarked while Dean was beaten up and sown together.

A familiar feeling of hatred for his body and its appearance started low in his stomach before he felt Castiel's lips kissing along his facial scar. It surprised him and he opened his eyes to see tan skin and thick eyelashes. The kisses continued until they reached his neck which was when he felt a warm tongue lick over his pulse. He gulped and bared his neck more in an invitation which Castiel gladly accepted. Gentle kisses got rougher as Castiel sucked on the skin, determined to leave a mark behind that said that he'd been there. While he didn't let this side of him show very often, he could be a bit possessive.

Lips traveled down before stopping at Dean's chest which Castiel looked at in admiration while he decided his next move. A few seconds passed before he decided on lavishing attention to one nipple with his mouth while playing with the other one so it wasn't left out. This had Dean arching off the bed slightly both in shock and at the sensation, a hand coming up to rest on the back of Castiel's head. He vaguely remembered that his nipples had always been a sensitive spot for him but he hadn't told Castiel that. How the fucker had known he had no idea.

Castiel switched to the other nipple and kept this up until both of them were standing at attention and sensitive. Kissing moved over Dean's soft stomach which he felt twitch under his mouth, him having to resist the urge to chuckle since he knew it would ruin the mood. His journey got delayed when he arrived at Dean's hips before nipping at his soft inner thighs. He wasn't teasing, he was simply taking in all that Dean had to offer.

Dean's breathing was hitched and he struggled not to tangle his hands in Castiel's unruly hair or scratch at his skin. He didn't want to make any marks on the blank canvas before so he fisted the sheets at his side instead as a way to hold onto his dwindling self control. Castiel could paint him however he wanted to but Dean wanted to leave the other man just as he was, not feeling himself worthy of leaving a trace of himself behind. It would be taking too much, more than he already had.

His erection started to flag slightly as that thought came to his mind, self hatred creeping in once again. The thoughts got pushed back by Castiel's mouth going down over him and enveloping him in warmth. His eyes fell closed and he unconsciously thrust his hips up, his mouth falling open in a silent moan. It had been a long time since someone had given him a blow job that he'd almost forgotten what the wet heat felt like. His toes curled and his legs spread more, inviting Castiel to come closer and offering as much room as was needed.

Castiel took the offer and pulled himself up, hands anchoring themselves on Dean's torso in a firm grip. His eyes were open and he was looking up at Dean to study his face, wanting to see how he was affecting him. The blissed out expression he saw gave him more confidence so he went lower, taking a little over half of Dean inside of his mouth before he knew it would hit the back of his throat. He wasn't even going to try and take it into his throat because not only did that seem uncomfortable but possibly throwing would definitely kill the mood.

So, he settled for wrapping his hand around the other half and working it with the amount of pressure he knew he liked when pleasuring himself. The moans he heard encouraged him to continue, a confirmation that he was doing everything right. His own erection was forgotten as it rubbed against the bed every so often but it only got harder the more pleasure he gave Dean. This was about Dean who never let himself have any pleasures. Just knowing that he was making Dean soar higher and higher, closer and closer towards that peak gave Castiel sparks of pleasure of his own though. It was almost like he got pleasure from giving pleasure.

Dean's control on not touching Castiel broke and one hand tangled itself in the messy brown hair. He didn't push his head down, though. He just wanted to lay his hand there and have that connection as a sort of lifeline. The other hand flopped around until it found the hand that was at his side and slid over it. It was awkward but having the contact seemed to make everything feel that much better.

Castiel moaned around Dean's length, the contact sending a thrill down his spine. Dean's hips sputtered a bit in response but he tried his best to not gag Castiel. He could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge and he tried to convey this by tightening his grip in Castiel's hair, words seeming to be beyond him. Castiel, thankfully, got the message and focused the majority of his attention on the head while his hand stroked rapidly. Dean's hips thrust up one final time and he let out a low groan as his climax ran through him.

Castiel pulled back after the first little bit hit his tongue and instead just focused on working the rest out with his hand. He could deal with the clean up but he'd never been able to stomach taste and Dean's poor diet wasn't going to do much to change his opinion. When it was over, Castiel disappeared to the bathroom to wash his hands as well as grab a warm wash cloth. He hadn't gotten off himself but that was besides the point. The goal there had been to pleasure Dean and he'd done just that. Seeing the other man looking so content was a reward in and of itself.

Dean hummed his approval when he felt the warm washcloth cleaning him up. It soothed his oversensitive skin and pushed him closer towards falling asleep. It wasn't until he was cuddled under the covers with Cas that he realized something: he was the only one to get off in that situation.

 

"I just realized something. You didn't get off." 

 

"Hmm?" said Castiel, turning his head back towards Dean. He'd ended up as the little spoon, Dean's arms and legs wrapping around him just tight enough that there was a possessive feeling. Castiel hadn't cuddled with anyone in a long time, much less spooned and even then he was the big spoon. It was new to have someone wrap around him but Dean had just done it naturally. Still, it did make sense since it fell in line with Dean's care giver personality. He'd want to wrap someone up and hold them close and Castiel was strangely okay with someone holding him for once.

"I'm fine. It was about you," said Castiel, his head settling into the pillow more as his eyes closed. A few seconds of silence passed before he felt a hand wrap around his now soft cock. The contact sent a short spark through him that had his body tense. He was about to tell Dean that he didn't have to do that, that they could just go to sleep, but the wet thumb tracing over the head stole his attention. Gradually, he hardened until he was resting heavily in Dean's hand. 

He grunted softly as he felt Dean stroke him slowly, alternating between the strength of his grip and stopping at the head every so often to gather more pre cum for moisture. There was soon enough that Dean's hand was traveling smoothly and he did his best to satisfy Castiel, thinking back to what he liked when he masturbated though it had been a while. 

The only sounds for a while were the slick slide of Dean's hand and Castiel's uneven breathing. Castiel's hips jerked upwards in an unsteady rhythm, telling Dean that he was close. Dean started to work harder to bring Castiel over the edge in response. Castiel didn't last too much longer before his body tensed and he pulsed in Dean's hand, shooting over his fingers while moaning through gritted teeth. Dean worked him through it before carelessly wiping his hand on the sheets, figuring they'd have to be changed anyways.

They both fell asleep with a smile on their faces.

 

**Author's Note:**

> This work is most likely going to be posted in three parts where one chapter equals one part. This one took me a few months to write so no promises about a fast update.


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